


I Wwill Try... Two Fiix You: Intermission One

by Bloodywolf327



Series: I Wwill Try... Two Fiix You [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Drama, Graphic Description, M/M, Mental Anguish, Mild Gore, Mild Language, References to Sex, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-04
Updated: 2014-12-30
Packaged: 2017-12-17 15:58:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/869331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bloodywolf327/pseuds/Bloodywolf327
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>⇒Be Eridan<br/>You are five years old Eridan Ampora marching to face your father, upon having heard some very upsetting news that infuriates you! Your brother isn't here to help you fight this battle, so you'll be going in alone for the first time ever. You don't know if you'll be able to change your father's mind but there's no harm in trying, right?<br/>⇒Be Sollux<br/>You are Seven years old, Sollux Captor, helpless beside your bleeding out older brother. He just crashed down a very large flight of stairs from attempting to do a grind down the stair's railing and cycled down a large majority of the steps without a helmet. You can't do anything and you feel like you've already done enough to make the situation happen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Intermission 1 [Part 1 of 2]

**Author's Note:**

> After finishing up the school year and a long break I'm back with the first Intermission for July fourth :)

**⇒ Be the Crying burnet haired Boy**

You cannot currently be the crying seven year old brunet haired boy running towards concrete stairs with a metal pole usable for holding onto as you walk down them or as a skidding ramp for skate boarding teenagers enjoyment, but wait a moment for him to come back into focus and you will be able to be him. He is emotionally unstable and freaking out about his older brother, Mituna Captor. His vision is blurred about the surroundings that seem to be spinning from his frantic mind, tears stream down from his hetero colored blue and hazel brown irises, glasses askew on his scrunched up face. His hearing shot from his mind replaying the first sickening crack of skull against jagged pavement stairs, and the tumbling body of his seventeen year old brother echoing a similar sound down every step playing in his head. The world that seems unreal as the resounding of his heavy pants and sole focused movements block out the voices screaming and wailing around him from the current incident as he rushes down a flight of twenty steps to his brother’s side on the ground.

Pale yellow changes to deep red with Mituna’s blood settling into your bumblebee colored shirt and gray shorts as you sit down beside him in the forming puddle. Oozing out of your brother in a thick pool beside his head and leg, it sticks warmly to your skin and drips back to the ground from where you come into contact with it. Mituna’s eyes are closed, face soaked red and purple from welts and cuts lacing it, and you don’t see him moving at all. You’re frozen with fear as you sit beside your brother. Helpless at what to do other than be alongside him as your vision slinks slowly down over him seeing the white and red bone sticking out from his black baggy jeans. The sight makes you want to vomit. You have not seen something as horrific as this before in your entire seven years of life. 

The closest personal experience you have had to knowing what death means, is that your favorite animal, the bee, dies with qualified easiness from information about your family’s personal owned bee farm facility. You are stunned, frozen in fear as the situation finally sets into your mind of what could be happening to your brother right now. Your trembling is fixed to inaccurate paces sent out from within your body and shudders violently shaking you. The engaging off-rhythm beat of your breathing is making your head start to feel light and black dots appearing in your vision. 

Thoughts are racing through your mind in the chaos and shock, ‘This wasn’t part of the plan! This shouldn’t be happening! I didn’t mean for this to happen!’

This place scares you. You don’t want to be here anymore.

**⇒ Be the Crying auburn-chestnut haired Boy**

You cannot currently be the irate, crying boy with auburn-chestnut hair, running down a brightly lighted hallway, but wait a moment to observe and you will be. 

He is a five year old child with pale white blurred red vision of frustration at the moment. Rapidly dashing across the usually fascinating black marble floors converging colors with the beautiful magenta shaded curtains and walls, royal reminders of the house sigil that he would normally stop to admire in luxury, he passes. The distinguishable forced-memorized, framed portraits of the historical figures of his family lineage hang on the stretching surface of the walls, waiting to be viewed, are without a second of hesitance from him as he doesn't spare them even a glance as his blue and black striped scarf ends flow after him. Avoiding the oddly dressed child when he becomes like this, is usually the best solution to follow, but we’ll tag along to see what he is so mad about.

The auburn-chestnut haired boy’s dress fashion is undoubtedly crazy to others, but is normal to him since he was three. It has collected on from the long knitted single navy and light blue stripped scarf to his favorite pair of shoes from his older brother but it all helps him in many ways all throughout the year providing warmth in the cold months, recognition for wearing the house sigil, protection, and important reminders. 

Though right now the bundle of rage has acquired a target and he is a deadly time bomb being delivered to detonate in front of his Father, in his father’s personal office quarters at the end of the hall. You are quite safe to be the boy wearing thick black glasses with his scarf majestically wrapped around his neck, although it’s the middle of summer and kind of ridiculous to strut around in, he does it anyway. You sure you really want to be this weird little boy?

**⇒Be the weird wearing scarf boy**

A few minutes ago you had been walking into the dining room to eat dinner, when informed by your elegantly stylish Nanny Maryam, the infuriating, tragic news. Nanny Maryam has been your second most trusted, choppy short-haired, nursemaid, adviser with a loving motherly touch that has taken care of all your needs to the best of her ability for as long as you can remember. The news that your father has decided you will no longer be able to see or associate with your first most trusted, “swwag” older brother, Cronus Ampora, has sent you on a rampant rage from the dining hall. Your Father is doing this because as he would put it, your brother is an “ill fortune swwept upon the family title and future”, and wishes you to avoid going down that same path for your own good.

Your Father, Dualscar Ampora, has made a life changing decision again for his youngest son, heir to the Wisconsin corporation, Empire Fish. You may be five years old, but you are certain that you know what you want or don’t want at this age! You are not happy about knowingly being controlled by him, but usually follow his orders because he is your father. And you have never once stood up against his dark forceful image you see or the decisions he makes for you. 

Or at least not by yourself, after he has declared it.

You think your brother is amazing for standing against your father alone and has supported your opinion time and time again! He has taught you lots of useful things, like how to tie your shoes, ride the tricycle he got you for your fourth birthday, or how to activate your cute charms to pull women towards you when he sneaks you out to watch newly released comedies at theaters downtown, when he notices one that seems to perk up your interest from a TV commercial when you are together. You never directly ask for anything when you’re with your brother because he’s already given everything you want! He’s a mind reader you think and you've asked him before if he was one, but he just started laughing when you mentioned it.

He bought you an ice cream afterwards because he could tell you were silently pouting. 

You love and enjoy being with your big brother very much.

Your father has never done anything like that, which you can think of, that your brother has done for you. He may spend money on you for gifts and cards, but you hardly ever seen him happy and he has not once been seen by you on your birthday. You've heard your brother and father fight many times before, over what you presume is you and it makes you feel sad when you think about it. You secretly sometimes wish that your father could be a lot more like big brother, and hope someday he will be because brother is the best! But right now you’re not sad though. You’re the ‘bad words’ your father refers them to as and you've heard your brother use before, “Pissed the Hell Off!”

The rich old redwood colored double-doors fly easily open under the unmerciful force of your five year old boy rage strength, slamming into the walls their hinges are hanging onto with a harsh bang, ringing around the circular room of your father’s office with similar colored curtains to the ones in the hall, closing out any possibility of light to wisp in and the floor is a cold blue that makes the magenta stand out. You had screamed out “FATHER!” with as much rage and bitterness you could sink into the name as you had dramatically slammed the office doors open. You don’t actually know if he’s here or not.

You take it into mind that your father is in the room. 

He has seen your display of anger. 

He does not look impressed by it.

The darkness of his office is a blaring contrast to the lighted hallway and makes the room look more eerily despairing, as the light from the entrance creeps over his sharp cold magenta eyes glaring at you in the distance of the entrance to his desk. The same color decorates the house in a parade of shades, it is the same coloring of your own eyes, but is frighteningly more intense and terrifying to you.

You mentally flinch and feel sweat start to form on your forehead as your gaze sweeps across his posture and half hidden face. His stance frightens you as usual with him sitting in his desk that is as tall as you are, and the dark enshrouding around him like a powerful cape cascading off any vibe that he feels, and magnifying it by tenfold towards the people who see him. You are shivering a little as your previously wrathful fueled energy you had been storing was mainly descended upon your extravagant opening of the door, while whatever of it was left was slithering away from you, being replaced by the overgrowing urge to fold in upon yourself under your father gaze and vibes vibrating from him towards you. 

Gaze and vibes directed only on you.

His back is postured to be bent over with stiffly, tense shoulders forming a sharp square shape over his desk, elbows placed on the dark ebony desk top, his left hand placed on top of his right hand, both glittered and flashing of the gold rings blessed on his hands, and the lower half of his face partially hidden from your view behind his hands. Though you wish he would be covering his whole face, so you wouldn't be caught stricken and stiff in fear as your eyes make contact. Anger and pure rage are boiling in him from what you can read in his gaze directed at you and they have never been placed on you like this before. 

You have never directly seen your brother and him fight, but you really glad you haven’t. 

Your brother must have been made out of the strongest metal in the world to withstand this crushing full forced gaze. You are to the point of trembling and shivering. You can feel the tears shaping on the ceases of your eyes. His deep, husky voice, asserting out his full authority dripped with ire as he spoke, “Why are you here. You should be eating dinner right now.” This was a command, not a question.

This place scares you. You don’t want to be here anymore.

**⇒Be the burnet haired boy again**

This place scares you. You don’t want to be here anymore.

Like your wish being granted by the cruel gods, you’re being cradled from looking at the scene displayed in front of you with a single pair of arms and hands laced around from behind you, shielding your view from the now tainted world. 

You attempt to struggle away from the arms as you realize their presence around you is lifting you away from your bleeding brother. You cease fighting as your last retained amount of energy slips away from your body and you become aware of the arms you once thought were suffocatingly strong were, are truly shaking, trembling, and weak with constant persistence to retreat from the scene. They have turned you around to face the winning owner against your break away endeavors of the irritating limbs. 

A somewhat familiar face with two unique zinging scars lying on the right corner of his forehead snaps into view as your eyes refocus themselves from draining tears. The white guy in tight blue jeans and a white tank top with chestnut hair gelled back, Cronus Ampora, your brother’s best friend. 

His eyes are puffy red with tears streaming down his face and looks what you think is how you feel, but something seems to flicker of a deeper meaning and difference in emotions through his eyes for your brother. He looks sickly whiter than usual and is starting to talk to you in a voice that is a bit uptight and trying its best to keep the shaking and fear from leaking off of every word, but failing for most of it. “Sollux, vwe hawve to let the people in vwhite take Mituna. They can help him.” 

You finally take note of the white dressed people he’s talking about as his sentence finishes. They are hurriedly, but steadily taking Mituna off the ground on a blue wheeled bed into a white, blue, and red squared shaped car behind Cronus with the flashing of red and blue with the screeching of an ear aching noise from a few vehicles surrounding you making the noise and colors expand and furiously more erratic. 

“But-t–” your voice is a hoarse whimpering cry and stutter as tears start to pour a little heavier from your eyes, but Cronus interrupts you before you can ever really start sobbing heavier, “No, Sollux! Vwe must let him go... by himself… he’ll be fine vwith the medics.” He pauses a moment to abruptly move you both away from the white, red, and blue vehicle moving Mituna inside of its opened back compartment. You’re both eyeing him, while they rush him in, but don’t see much as Cronus moves both of you further away and catches a breath between his heaving panting and tears, “I need to get you to your parents and let them knovw vwhat’s happened here… and that you are safe.” 

You realize you must have been screaming at some point during your time to and beside your brother, because your throat really hurts when you try to reply and nothing comes out. Cronus is trying to stop his heavy crying and hysteria, knowing you need to be safe with someone rational right now and crazy panicking isn’t going to work well for the situation. The white, red, and blue vehicle closes its doors and drives quickly away with the ear splitting screech and colorful flashing lights repeatedly going on as you quickly reach out to grab out onto Cronus. You need something to hold on to. 

You feel like you’ll roll into a little ball on the ground and won’t be able to move ever again, if you don’t grab onto something. You’ll be alone in a pit of sorrow, of pain… of guilt. So, you grab onto Cronus. The only thing helping you stay afloat fromn drowning in your emotions completely right now.

Cronus allows you to hug onto him with your small, shivering arms and legs wrapped around his neck and body, like your clinging onto a tree branch upside-down with a hundred yards of distance from a sure death-dropping fall and splat to the hard shattering ground below. He positions an arm under you to keep your weak trembling body in place and sets an arm on your back, making soothing slow circular patterns on it. You can feel slow steady tears falling onto your head, but he isn’t making any whimpering or panting noises. He is silent. 

You feel something a little different than your gut clenching in pain and self-loathing disgust for yourself, but ignore it.

He ignores the blood coming off of your soaked clothes on to his as you latch closely to his body and your head resting on his shoulder. Your quivers and shuddering have started to fade away. He walks slowly away from the cruel scene replaying in your mind as your sinking eyelids drift you into slumber from the extreme mental, emotional, and physical exhaustion taking over your small body. 

You are Sollux Captor and you are at fault for all the mayhem and sadness that has occurred today.

**⇒ Be the auburn-chestnut haired boy again.**

This place scares you. You don’t want to be here anymore.

You want to abscond and be the sad-mad, little boy told by his father to clean his room even though you don’t want to, but brace yourself and stand up a little straighter under his gaze as the memory of your brother’s face pops into your head reminding you, ‘you can be strong, if you hope and believe to be’. He has a wonderful saying you think, and try to follow it the best you can. You want to be like big brother.

With this thought, the anger you once had returns with quickening feet, pushing the fear holding you back out of mind and body. Your father seems to notice the change in your stance and mental front as his glare intensifies a little more on you and his eyebrows draw further down expressing his anger. You persist to challenge him by gracing him with the meanest glare you can spare right back at him. 

After a minute or so of a silent glaring contest you speak still holding your glare out against him. Your voice comes out even and driven by an unnegotiable idea, “Father, you will not forbid me from associating with my brother.” You hold back from presenting out your accent of doubling your w’s and v’s and dropping the g on your verbs to show him you are dead serious on following out with this decision and will not back down, even against him. 

You were instantly expecting a reaction of anger from him by your invigorating and will-driven choice to oppose against him, but he just sits there silently, his glare still there, facial expression the same. Then his facial expression changes; it scrunches up and eyes close, tilts his head down and drastically sighs. You tense up, and are a little shocked. You don’t know how to react to that! You don’t know if you should be happy for thinking you won or scared stiff from the unknown reaction as the first warning sign to your wrath filled yelling you are about to be served.

After thinking about it with a little more thought, you can tell his sigh is being used to release out the building up aggravation in him and he moves to sit straight up in his leather rollie chair allowing view of his full facial expression. You don’t flinch when you see the dull-pink, parallel zigzagging healed scars sited diagonally across his face. They lace from the top of his right cheek just below his right eye as it slices over the ridge of his bridging out nose to the top left of his forehead. You don’t know where your father received them, but your brother has told you time and time again not to stare at them. Instead you ask Cronus how he got his scars on the right corner of his forehead. He avoids your gaze each time you speak about them and says “Someday, I’ll tell ya’ ‘bout them…” ending the topic discussion.

Father is deeply frowning and the same glaring look replaces itself upon his face, his arms are now laid on the arms of the chair and hands are clenching the ends, while his nails and rings dig in imprints. You know you have not won yet, but you are shaken to the core when he says in a tone that sounds even more determined than yours a few seconds ago, “No, you will stop meeting and correlating with him. You are not being influenced by him in a positive way, and he is clearly not going to stop being a distracting menace to you or me.” 

The respect you hold for your brother rings out the rage, tears, and shoved away emotions you hide from your father as you scream at him the thoughts that make you feel the need to hide and avoid your father from self-shame for having ever thought them. “BROTHER IS NOT THE MENACE! HE HAS BEEN THERE IN A MORE POSITIVVE WWAY THAN YOU EVVER HAVVE! I HAVVE ALWWAYS DONE EVVERYTHING YOU DEMAND BUT NOT THIS, NOT THIS TIME! I WWILL NOT LET YOU TAKE THIS AWWAY FROM ME! WWE WWILL STILL SPEND TIME WWITH EACH OTHER WWHETHER YOU WWANT OR NOT!” 

The lengthy, tall figure of your father lurks over you as he had apparently shifted from the rollie chair he had been sitting in behind his desk and walked over towards you during your crying rant. His fury is clearly displayed from the light shining into the room and you wish it was either completely dark or completely bright so his features wouldn’t be as highlighted, exhibited and defined in the infinite amount of glowing light from the hallway being sucked into the endless void of darkness in the room. 

You are panting for breath from your elongated speech and staring directly at him. The pain, the hurt, the anger caused by him clearly showing on your visage as he stands over you, looking down right back at you. You swear you might have seen a hint of regret and pain in his as your eyes make contact, but it doesn’t last long as he bends over and roughly hugs you. He whispers, “I’m sorry son.” Guilt and pain riddling the three words as his scent washes over you. You are shocked stiff and the tears from your eyes seem to pause their constant stream down your face. It is a strong musky smell, but somehow calming as his strong long muscular arms wrap and surround your small stiff arms and body. 

You are there for a moment, you try to relax and lean in to return the display of affection, but he quickly lets go and backs off, letting the smile that had been forming on your face fall to a despairing frown. He gets back up with the glaring expression restored to his face causing your heart to clench as he speaks, “But I cannot let you stay involved with your brother.” You are shocked once again and your gut is a tight knotted mess filled with painful sharp jabs as you had for a moment believed that your father had magically changed himself and his mind to let you stay with your brother for opening up to him.

He continues to speak, his voice solemn and even as he slowly strides back to his desk, “And to be sure you stay focused, you’re going to be sent to an Ireland bordering school for girls and boys. The land where I was raised.” Pauses a moment as he shifts back into his seat and rolls his legs into the open compartment of the desk. Tears are rolling down your face again, head bent down towards the ground in loss and eyes glazed over, staring at really nothing, “I will be going with you to assure you stay focused and… be there for you, if that’s what needs to be done.” He pauses a moment again to glance over you then return to papers piled on his desk, “Now, go eat dinner Eridan.” 

You can’t do anything other than this. You don’t have the energy or heart to do anything else.

“Yes, father.” Your voice is a flat dead tone as you answer with submission. He seems pleased by your answer and waves you off with a hand then proceeds to clap his hands once, the lights in his office turn on. He’s not as scary with the lights on.

You hate sound activated lights.

You turn around to go through the still hanging opened doors of the attempt to show off your power to your father. You slowly walk through the brightly lit hallway from the fake energy above your head. You know it’s fake because you can see through the window that the sun is setting and leaving the dark to creep across the land. You are too tired emotionally, physically, and mentally to deal with this battle any longer. You pass the dining room, the pain in your stomach making you want to throw up at even thinking of food. 

You retreat to your bedroom to flop onto your bed, to cry, to question why everything like this is happening to you, why dad can’t be more understanding, why life is so hard on you, and where brother is when you needed him most. You fall asleep sobbing to yourself of all your miseries in life.

You are Eridan Ampora and you have just lost the first battle you have ever made alone with your father.


	2. Intermission 1 [Part 2 of 2]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ⇒Be Cronus Ampora  
> You are Cronus Ampora, and you are still enfolding the seven year old child, Sollux Captor, in the safety of your arms as you walk slowly down the sidewalk in the cooling shadows of the alleyway. Sollux is slackly hugging your body in his sleep and you support his small frame. The sun is slowly lowering into place for the tip of the sun to first touch the horizon of the sky. Sunset would be lovely to have if it scoured the amount of sunlight and heat baking you in Green bay, Wisconsin.

⇒Be the chestnut haired guy holding the burnet headed child

You are Cronus Ampora, and you are still enfolding the seven year old child, Sollux Captor, in the safety of your arms as you walk slowly down the sidewalk in the cooling shadows of the alleyway. Sollux is slackly hugging your body in his sleep and you support his small frame. The sun is slowly lowering into place for the tip of the sun to first touch the horizon of the sky. Sunset would be lovely to have if it scoured the amount of sunlight and heat baking Green bay, Wisconsin, and you. 

Sollux’s head has burrowed it’s self into the crease of your neck and is resting its weight on your broad left shoulder. Small arms are loosely latched around your neck, while his skinny legs limply hang past your sides. Your left arm is placed under his rump, holding his small form in the air and the other steadies him against your frame on his upper back. He looks supplementary tired and weak, even while he’s sleeping. You continue your slow stride to the nicely lighted and decorated neighborhood the Captor home resides in.

You are surprised you can find the energy to support yourself and him, with your muscles feeling like unstable jelly as mental fatigue smacks you physically from the stress unsuspectingly chucked at you today. You should’ve doubled over into the ground writhing in pain and tears balling up by now, but you still have several tasks at hand pushing you forth. Message delivery and Sollux. 

You had stopped motioning circles on Sollux’s back, a little while after you were sure he was asleep. This allowed your mind to process another action other than walking and holding him up. You choose to sift through some of the least painful head throbbing thoughts for a bit. 

You think back to how you had gained such mastery over soothing back rubs. Eridan’s face drifts into thought to thank for such extensive skills. Your head ache becomes a little perkier as you think of your fire cracker brother. 

Lulling Eridan out of his little tempers he regularly threw at the maids, and saving them from his wrath when they screwed up on something even to the smallest degree, was not a simple task. You think he has a ‘small’ perfectionist ideology due to always trying to please your father’s standards or he enjoys just being an ass to everyone he thinks is below him. You leave the train of thought alone because you’re not really a psychologist or anything comparable to one, and you’re not sure if it’s one or both reasons he acts like a prick. You don’t enjoy noticing that about him. 

You try to get on his case, but he gives this heart breaking pouty look at you each time you start to say anything. You don’t have the guilt free conscious to break his attitude issues with that face, or at least not while he’s looking at you like that. 

You feel your way too soft on your little brother, but you’ll never find the gale to change it. You love the little brat. 

Eventually your wondering train of ideas leads you from Eridan to Sollux. Sollux is two years older than your brother, and when they finally met each other for the first time, thanks to the endless convincing and discussion to your reluctant boyfriend, it went as well as a pampered documented breed toy terrier vs. a wild bound grumpy cat. 

The hope for a new friend for your secluded brother died with the first exchange of your brother saying “Oh wwoww. Wwhy are those wwierdos wwearing three-d glasses?” Judging opinion and cocky attitude playing at every word in Eridan’s tone; Sollux replying as expected, agitatedly “Why do you wear a thtupid cape and thcarf in the middle of thummer?” Mituna toothily grinned at you. It was the irritating smug look of “I told you so.” as the crude judgmental remarks went back and forth between your younger brothers. 

Their fighting ranged from what they were wearing to how they spoke to the way each other did things in the very first ten minutes of “conversing” with each other. The planned day went about a quarter into action until neither you, nor Mituna could stand your young brothers’ bickering any longer. 

Since the little fiasco between the two, you don’t bring Eridan along to meet Mituna and Sollux when you sneak him out. Eridan seems doesn’t mind not seeing the infuriating younger or older brother. 

Unlike Eridan, you were amazed the first time you met Sollux because he looks like a younger burnet version of Mituna. They are half-brothers, with all the same goofy features from their biological dad. Tall for their ages, hetero colored blue and hazel brown eyes, twig like bodies, and messed up teeth that causes their family lisp, though you’ve never heard Mituna’s or their father’s. You learned they had braces and many painful orthopedic appointments since they were young to rid them of it. Though, you were able to immediately pick out the smaller, more detailed differences between the two siblings as your little meet and greet went further on that day. 

You don’t notice the tears streaming from your eyes, re-dampening your blood splattered white Tank top. You had earlier decided to wear the shirt to the park because you originally considered it lucky. 

This accident has proven you entirely wrong. 

Sollux moves around in your arms for the first time since he first fell asleep and tightens his grip around your neck. His shivering has descended back onto his subconscious body and you stand still waiting from him to awake. You calm down from thinking he might wake up and start to soothingly rub his mid-back. This starts pacifying the trembles away from him, and his breathing returns to being calm and quiet. 

You can remember the one time you picked up Mituna like this from the floor of Kankri’s house. He had fallen asleep in the living room after being forced to listen and watch too many of Kankri’s endless attempted video recorded interviews. He looked cold, shivering, and kind of pitiful on the floor in front of the noisy rambling, Kankri-filled-television-screen like that. Deciding to pick him up as gently as you could try to and place him on the couch, which happened to be a complete success in picking him up and avoiding the pile of half-way-hidden away tapes on the floor, you had noticed his misguiding weak features. 

He had some muscle on his skinny, tall body frame from skateboarding, which gave him actual weight to his body, but was still generally a light twig compared to your more muscular figure. You tried to place him on the coach in the same manner you picked him up in, but struggled as Mituna had wrapped himself around you like a koala bear on a tree. 

It was incredibly cute as he snuggled into your body and pressed his nose into the crease of your neck, but you knew he was awake when an exasperated gasp escaped your mouth. He had sharply nipped your neck, causing a bruise to form and was currently licking the wound. He purred at you while he did this. Fuck him. 

You purposely drop (shove) his deviant ass onto the couch. He lands with a loud “plop” into the sit cushion. 

Mituna sleepily looked up and did a toothy grinning smirk at you as he said, “Thankth for dropping me over here. We’ll continue later.” He was attempting a seductive voice, but all it did was force you to make an ill-tempered snarl at him, while hastily retreating to the kitchen to finish the sandwich left under way. The poor thing was left to start an irritated elated quest to stop the Kankri filled noise, which you had been constantly hearings since your regulated visit to Kankri’s house during your lunch break from the auto shop began. A quest soon forgotten when you saw Mituna’s sleeping form on the floor with a little bit of drool hanging from the lower left corner of his mouth. 

He had again ruined the rare chance you ever got to hold him, and make him seem cute to you and not incredibly, devious. Of course though, he had taken note of your carefulness for him into mind at some point when he had woken in your arms as a chance to make you weak in the knees. 

Still, you forgave him for it as you came out of the kitchen. Like the usual, with a panting-filled make out session, but on the living room couch as you emerged from the kitchen with your sandwich in one hand and a coke in the other. You barely had time to set them down before he yanked you beneath him on the comfy couch. He was fully awake now and you could tell by something pressing into you. 

It was bitter sweetly stopped though as Kankri walked in and said in his mocking know it all fashion, “Pardon me, but it would be more favorable for my stomach and mental state, if both of you move your overly energetic and energized carcasses out of my living room and off my most possibly the comfiest you’ve ever sat on couch from your deranged and-mmph!” 

He couldn’t finish the rest of his sentenced formed paragraph as Mituna had just roughly thrown a couch cushion at his face. You were laughing hysterically at the scene in play and could obviously tell Mituna felt he had heard enough of Kankri’s overflowing, diarrhea of the mouth talk for one day. The force of the exerting throw of cushion caused Kankri to fall head first backwards into the carpeted floor with a louder crash of his body on the cheap, not too soft landing pad quickly following. 

You finally feel the stinging of your eyes from the tears you’ve cried and the ones forming on your eye line as a summer afternoon breeze grazes your wet eyes. It burns them, but doesn’t feel like anything comparable to the pain in your chest. You need to save the remembrancing for later and stay focused to the task at hand. Even if the task really sucks; even if you don’t want to be the one to do it; and even though it will make some very respectable people to you upset. They deserve to be told face to face, not by a phone call to try and hide from the pain that will appear on their faces, or the guilt you feel stacked on your shoulders. 

You have the miserable, painstaking duty of walking to your secretive (though not so much secretive to your friends and family) boyfriend’s house, and telling his parents, their oldest son is in the hospital due to you and all your friends acting like major idiots and skateboarding off of stairway hand railings and rims of benches in the local downtown sitting park area, clearly labeled out with a sign, “NO SKATEBOARDING ANY WHERE WITHIN A 100 YARDS OF THIS POINT”. 

Not only is this your job because you are his boyfriend and best friend, but your douche like friends ditched the scene of the crime not wanting to get their hands dirty with involvement of the illicit act, leaving you and Latula Pyrope for the cops to deal with. The thought of casting them into the fire with you crossed your mind during your interview with the cop, but you set yourself to higher standards than that. Standards were standards. 

Even for your douche friends. 

The cop that dealt with you wore a dark blue versioned uniform, had long blonde spikey platinum hair, and a pair of anime sunglasses. The shades were disturbingly awkward for a police man to wear, but somehow made him look more ironic than anything else. Of course this thought didn’t really come to mind at the moment you first saw him or after he’d gained all the information that he required from you about the scene. A few details were white lies, but generally all true. 

From the look of worry and tears streaming down your face he gained during the interview, he tried to be considerate enough to only give you what was his attempt at a honest two sentenced lecture. His tone was somber, while he gave you a casting look of pity over his glasses, “Those signs are put up for a reason… give them a better look next time…”, then stealthily slid back on his poker face and let you carry on your way. He went straight forward to deal with Latula’s unhappy, yelling face standing by the delayed ambulance from the conflicting ordeal she was making around it. 

From what you heard as you caroled in Sollux was that she had tried to go into the ambulance when it first arrived in her panicked delirium, going with Mituna to the hospital to assure herself he was still alive, but the cops stopped her by using something between the lines of “you are an eye witness to an investigation and can’t leave the crime scene yet’ making an obstacle for the EMT’s to get to Mituna lying on the ground bleeding out. They forced her to stay unwillingly during the wind down of the chaos and gave you a chance to slip away with Sollux after being delayed to him by the earlier interrogating cop that was standing by watching the scene play in front of him. The distraction allowed you to move on with Sollux in your arms without being caught up by any further obstacles. 

Holy fuck, this is so fucking incredibly difficult and you’re only on the front of their lawn. 

Due to the break off of your relationship with your father two years ago at the age of fourteen, you don’t own a car. They’re ridiculously expensive when you’re broke and self-independent. Though you do own a motorcycle to drive; it’s presently at the shop all locked up and safe from any creeps that would try to steal the baby you put together from scratch with your auto mechanic mentor’s help and beautifully ‘found’ working auto parts. 

Therefore you were forced to walk to the Captor house, which is regularly a forty minute walk between the house and the downtown park. It would have been nice to ride in a vehicle, instead of walking at a slower pace than usual, carrying a small child in your arms, and receiving a quite a few shocked glances at you on your way here. You questioned and threw glares at some of the people who looked at you in the beginning, but steadily began to remember you were covered in blood, caring a young child in your arms. Normal people would wildly stare at the sight in baffled horror. 

You and Sollux were covered in drying blood from Mituna’s broken, torn up body that once gave energy and life to him, stuck on your skin and clothes, dead and dying. You felt sick and gaged each time your stomach curled into itself at the thought, but never threw anything up after the reflex. You wanted to sob madly in worry, anger, and sorrow for your lover as the image of his blood pooling from his head and leg, gouged you repeatedly in the gut and heart. You don’t know if you really would want to be by his side right now. Stuck beside him knowing your there and could do nothing for him to get better or being there next to him to be reassured he’s still alive and believing somehow he’ll be fine. 

You could perfectly imagine the white shading into red as your eyes had inched down the bone extruding from the skin and muscle of his lower left half of his leg, the distinct smell of metallic in the air from his blood’s copper, iron and the hinting scent of decay. Visualize the deathly white color started to creep across his skin as he laid unconscious on the pavement ground with blood lining down his face and hair. 

This image was viewable for the whole world to see at a moment’s glance or overlook. Your panic, fear, and anger sparked brighter for each second he laid there on the ground with the medics present, but having to be sidetracked by Latula standing, throwing a stupid hissy fit, between them and Mituna. You were a little joyful when you saw the platinum blonde haired police officer that investigated you, take control of her and force her to submit painfully to the ground. You don’t fight a cop’s orders. Or you learn the hard way not too. 

The lights on the bottom floor of the house shine onto the grass. The light from warm against your skin and allows better sight of your surroundings in the dark. Usually you would walk through people’s lawns like you owned the damned piece of land, unless their sprinkler system was on, but for the two story summer home’s lawn you respect these people enough not to walk through their lawn even without their sprinkler system working. 

You stay on the edge of the sidewalk and driveway as you tread quietly on the pavement beneath your feet, keeping as silent as possible to let Sollux escape reality for a few more minutes. You knew it was going to be tough on you, but probably more devastating to Sollux. He was at the top of the stairs making the same face Eridan does when he’s silently grumbling and pouting before his brother had tried to do a gnarly grind down the stair railings without a helmet on and came crashing off his board, rolling down the impending stairs time and time again, until he reached the bottom. 

Particular conditions as to why this accident was a calamity that occurred, instead of just an accidental event that he got back up from or was at least conscious, really hurts and pisses you off because you knew you were right about this important factor all along and he didn’t listen to you! And you let him destroy the hope you had for trying to successfully do something about it, because what you were doing wasn’t working out. You feel responsible for Mituna’s injury; because you still think you could have possibly prevented it somehow, someway…

You had time and time again complained about him wearing a helmet when you first learned of his hobby, but ceased after getting tired of worrying about it. You were to the point of saying “If he falls and hurts himself, it’ll be his ovwn damn fault!” because you knew he was going to do what he pleased, whether you or anyone else said anything to him about it. It was what attracted you to him in the first place, along with his snide attitude that could counter yours. You enjoy his bull headed companionship, and he knows it. He doesn’t have to try to make you smile or frown as he teases you. 

Still you tried to change his mind! 

Though… you started to shut up about it when you noticed, you were both beginning senseless fights over a stupid safety helmet. It was a pointless battle that was not funny and was hurting you both emotionally so, you decided to give in to make each other happy. You both are incredibly hardheaded, stubborn people, but you tend to try to be nicer to other people. Logically you believe if you’re nice to other people, they’re supposed to be nice to you. 

Though, your nice guy act doesn’t last very long, when things don’t go according to plan and your lenience blunders. 

Only a few people do you extend your patience over the short time limit registered for it, and for fewer of your friends, do you know or attempt to make your tolerance slip away faster than normal people cause it to. Your online friends Meenuh and Damara would try for the spontaneous humor of it. The objective is to exhibit their five inch tall top ass-hats on the heads of the grins you could imagine cascading across their faces every time they succeeded. 

Mituna would be added to your asshat list, but those clashes would usually swing near a more passionate route, or violent as some would say. It’s sexy as fuck you think. You both would be angrily flirting with each other into sloppy make outs, stopping most of the verbal fighting and verve towards more mental and physical fighting for dominance as you started to pull and claw at each other. 

You regularly give up to him first. 

Okay, most of the time… 

Fine! You have not had a time he has not been dominant, but you love him. So you’re mostly cool with it. Mostly. 

You do enjoy being under him, but you’re not cool with it when your emotions start to get a ‘little’ jealous about the one-sided dominance in roles. You wish he’d let up sometimes, but you’ll never admit this desire out loud to him or anyone you know. Your stubborn headedness will make you try to find an approach on your own, in your own manner. You know he wouldn’t willingly give you dominance anyway. 

Now, if only this stubborn headed attitude could cause you to ring the doorbell of the Captor’s house your in front of. You’re shaking a bit in anxiety, but stop as you feel Sollux shift his arms around your neck. Oh… well… fuck, he should probably wake up now. You ascend to the task of waking him in a quiet, slow pace so he doesn’t totally flip his shit right up out of your arms. You’re effort is put to vain. 

You lightly patted his right shoulder and whispered, “Sollux, vwake up.” as gently as you could. His body shifted a little, and then tensed. He pulled back and seemed to try flailing out of your arms onto the, “Welcome Home” mat partially beneath your feet in front of the door way. 

You have achieved stomping down on your impatience for people and children as you calmly speak with affection to Sollux and keeping him in your holding grasp. 

“Sollux, calm down it’s just me. Cronus, remember I’m your brother’s important friend. We’re at your house.” 

He stops to look at you with a face that is alit with a wild fear, anger, and panic. It only lasts a few seconds, but it is similar to the one from earlier when you first dragged him away from his brother and it sends a sliver of pain through your chest. He looks blank in the face and you repeat what you just said to him, thinking he may not have heard you clearly in his moment of awakening. 

He gives you a look that speaks as though you just insulted him by repeating yourself for him or undermining his knowledge of something, but his attention on you doesn’t last long as he starts to scan the area around him. He visual shrinks in your arms as his gaze lands on the garage. Small quivers shoot down him in paced timing and he fits to burrowing himself into your chest. You don’t know what’s exactly causing these shudders to form from him, but you are absolutely sure it has something to do with today’s tragedy. What else could be the reason? 

You can feel your own heart crack a little more in your chest as you look over his pitiful state. You don’t want him or yourself to start crying again, so you slid your one free hand around his small, skinny back. At first he tenses and tries to fight it, but lets it calm him as your persistent arm traps him in a reassuring embrace. 

You don’t mind his retaliating because you know you’d squirm too if placed in the same situation. You proceed to giving him a comforting hug that tightens a little more as seconds fly by. You don’t know if it’s really comforting him, but it’s really helping you out. Your mind sweeps over the image of Mituna as boney limbs and sharp shoulders press into you. 

You slowly let go of the hug you positioned Sollux into and start to place him to stand on the ground, but he refuses to let go of you. He, at some point, sneaked his arms around you and was hugging you too. You think the hug helped him at least some from his reaction. 

You are fine with holding him. You find whatever little strength you have left to press the doorbell. The bells ring and dually echo in time with their annoying tune resembling the buzz of bees. You know they installed it purposely that way from the family’s constant fixation on bees and pairing of things into groups of two. 

You wait a moment hearing a ruffling sound from behind the front door and brace yourself for the horrified faces of Mituna’s parents before you hear the door open. It opens as slow as you expected, but you didn’t expect to see Mituna’s biological Dad, Phoenix Captor’s face in the shape it was in, at least not until you delivered the heart-wrenching, gut-stabbing news, that made you feel sick each time it crossed your mind, to them. 

Tears are quietly streaming down his cheeks; face a red shade of tan, red tinted brown and bright blue eye are dull, faded and glazed, already puffy and shot red from tears, and lips forming a defined grimacing frown. You don’t have to ask why he’s crying, or why his face is so angry. He already knows what has happened to his son before you could respectfully tell them the crisis. You have failed in your task to ease their pain if any for the news to first be coming from you. 

Your gazes connect and you see a flare of anger directly meant for you. You immediately bound your eyes off to look at anything else but his. You both stand their silently. Tenseness is in the air as his gaze creeps across yours and Sollux’s forms. His mind calculating answers for himself based off your appearances. Your gaze is held to staring at the yellow and black bees imprinted pictures littering across the ‘Welcome Home’ matt beneath your feet. You don’t feel very welcomed knowing you’re being studied right now, feeling you have failed the task that you prompted your crumpling energy together for, only to be wasted and fail the people you highly respect the small if any amount of comfort you could have provided them and unknown directed anger veered towards you. You feel ready to collapse under the strain, but you’re still holding Sollux so you can’t. 

Sollux has stopped clinging onto your shoulders, but still has his hands placed comfortingly on them and his gaze has locked onto his father’s. Two pairs of hetero colored eyes of blue and reddish-brown stare silently at each other, like some silent secret words are being exchanged as they make eye contact. You can’t read the thoughts being passed around, but it seems to be concerning a subject of disagreement as their eyebrows start to furrow and Sollux’s grip clenches your shirt. 

The exchange only lasts a moment before Phoenix turns around and starts walking back inside the door. You hear him call to you in a somber tired voice hinting its anger as you enter through the mahogany door frame, and close the gold platinum knob behind you. “Come into the living room, Cronus.” You carry Sollux into the living room passing pictures of the family in portraits hanging on the wall.

You used to feel a twinge of disgust for the portraits as you passed them and jealous of the family’s capability to be together peacefully, until your face was well displayed in a photo casing on Mituna’s work desktop about half a year ago. You were astonished when you noticed it there the day Mituna invited you over on your birthday for your second to last birthday gift. You had enjoyed your last birthday present of watching movies cuddling, and being a bit adventurous up until you had to get up and go to work at 7:30 AM the next morning. Boss had forewarned you he wasn’t going to let you have anymore “sick” days anytime soon a week before your birthday… work sucked that day. 

When you enter the living room you don’t see much, but a hunched shoulder as a pair of arms tow you downward, placing your head into the shoulder, and hands clenching your bloody shirt and back, surrounding you and Sollux in a clutching hug. You can smell hot fresh honey tea in the room as you tense at the sudden grasp, but relax when you hear and feel the sobs on your neck of Issiac Captor, Mituna’s Step father between yours and Sollux’s heads. 

His voice is shaky and caught between his cries and pants for breath; it is heart breaking to listen to, “I’m so glad your fine! W-we found out about M-mituna from Latula a-and she said s-she didn’t know w-where you two disappeared to! I-I didn’t know w-what to expect n-next for you both!” He pauses to regain control over his breathing and slow down his voice, “I was so worried… Mituna’s in the hospital in critical condition with Latula by his side… Phoenix suggested we stay here and wait to see if you two would be back before we rush to Mituna… but if you didn’t show-w… I d-don’t k-know what I-i w-would h-have d-done….” 

You could hear the reluctance and stuttering to continually get stronger in his voice with the sentence, he stops speaking as he drawls you both closer against his supportive shivering frame. You can all but just stand there and feel the tears starting to collect on your eyelids and flow down your face. You give into exhaustion for the first time today and slump against the steady force of the Issiac holding you up. “I’m sorry, so sorry. I am sorry.” you repeat and repeat. No wonder why Phoenix was giving you the cold shoulder and angry attitude. Issiac keeps you steady as you both weep. 

Mituna’s stepfather has always been able bring out the rejected emotions you have hidden under the surface from the world when you first met him a year ago as Mituna’s friend. He has the ability to be whatever figure in your life you need, since you opened up and told him about your past. He allows you as much space and independence that you need and make for yourself between you two. 

You feel him move his hand to the back of your head and stoke your hair down in a soothing stride, causing you to let out a series of muffled whimpering cries into his shoulder. Slowly you’re releasing all the pressurized, crammed-away emotions you held since the disaster of Mituna’s crash. 

Sollux burrows into Issiac’s chest and shifts from clinging to you to his father’s side. Issiac lets you go to adjust Sollux onto his hip and say something to Phoenix, though you don’t quite catch what he says between the noise of your panting for breath, whimpers, and tears. You know you’re not in a suitable state to be here anymore as you feel yourself being lead out of the living room to the stair case residing the guest rooms upstairs. 

You hear the loud crash of what sounds like a breakable dishware against the wall, but nobody comments on it as you’re lead up the stairs by Issiac with Sollux still on his hip. You are glad you’re being moved from the living room, because you and Phoenix aren’t are good terms. If he’s angry enough to be throwing tea sets with honey tea in them around the room, you would have definitely been made a moving target by staying in the same room any longer. 

You’re lead into your usual guest room closest to the right of the stairs, where you last left your phone before going to the park with Mituna and Sollux. Issiac tries to pass you a small smile, but it comes out to more of a concerned weak frown. “I am really sorry, but could you please watch Sollux, while I go to calm down my husband?” You try your best to make your voice sound clear of hoarseness from crying, but fail as it comes out similar to Issiac’s own weak voice, “Yeah, I don’t mind vwatching him for you.” Sollux doesn’t have any real issues either with the decision, but grunts as he slides off his father’s hip and grabs onto your left hand. He opens the door and waits for you. 

Issiac nods back to you and speaks once more before you thank him for the room, “I’ll save the rant for later. You know the drill for when this happens. I’ll knock on your door when it’s safe to come out, but don’t come out otherwise.” He places the key to lock the door of the room into your hand. You tiredly nod, guide Sollux into the room and lock it behind you after you watch Issiac’s figure disappear out of sight around the corner. 

There goes the returning anchor to a wondering battleship ready to fire anytime. You’re sad to see him go, but he is really the only way other than drugs to calm Phoenix’s rage once it starts. You don’t blame Phoenix for flipping his shit, even if he’s not on his medicine. You think he’s extremely strong willed for trying to fight his bipolar disorder without medicine and only using it on really bad days. Though, you hope Issiac will be able to persuade him to take it before another rampage takes over him completely and all hell breaks loose. 

Sollux lets go of your hand and slips over to the bed and curls up on it. You are tired, emotionally unstable, and feel obligated to saying fuck you to almost everyone in the world, but you made a promise to watch over this sad, pathetic, skinny, curled up ball on your bed. You don’t think its health for him to be in the fetal position on the bed and looking depressed like that, so you go over to your guest room closet. You need to keep his and your mind off of what is happening. It will only hurt you both to think about it right now. To think that you didn't get to tell him you love him. 

You step into the dark storage room and purposely creating loud rummaging noises and throwing crates of useless junk into other areas to catch his attention. After about ten minutes of rummaging pointlessly through the gigantic closet you pull out a white hazy coloreds bin into the light of the room. As you view out to see if anything had changed, indeed it had. 

Sollux is curled tighter into the fetal position and has placed his hands over his ears. 

Just like his brother, he has pronounced a challenge to you sprouted from bull headedness. Challenge fucking accepted. You are royally pissed the hell off, though you’re currently smirking right now. 

You stride back into the closet and grab another bin to add to your building collection. It is grass green colored bin and has over fifty different pairs of card games mixed all together in the closed big bin. Due to Sollux’s current state he could not prepare for the on slaughter of cards dumped all over him. His surprise as he spotted the cards gushing onto him and flailing through the pool of cards on the bed was worth the well placed painful kick to the shin you gained. Sollux was up now and yelling at you, looking much livelier and wild eyed with anger, “WHY THE HELL DID YOU JUTHT POUR THITTY MIXED CARDTH ON ME?!?!” 

You can’t help the grin spreading across your face at his cute lisp and attempt at cursing. “I just thought you might vwant to play some wvideogames with me.” You point to the different game controllers pluggable to the TV for multiplayer videogames laid out in front of the 20in. by 20 in. TV. The white hazy container cased the video games were sitting beside the controllers. “That thtill doethn’t anthwer my quethtion, thtupid!” 

You forget that all born Captor men are smart, but like very straightforward answers when being totold something, so let’s have a little fun! “I did anthvwer your question just in a wvery subtle vway.” You use his lisp to taunt more emotion from him. 

You can see the sparks of irritation in his eyes as he speaks “NO! You did not. You jutht thaid what your motive wath, not why you couldn’t jutht bother me in a normal fathion, and INTHTEAD OF POURING THITTY CARDTH ON ME!!” His right eye is twitching a bit, perfect timing to play the final straw. 

“VWhere vwould the fun be in it if I did it normally?”

His eyes widened with anger and you could see them glow with rage as you continued, “VWhen else could I have the fun of seeing you flail about stupidly in cards. So you gonna play some wvideo games vwith me or are you gonna sit there and be a grouchy little chicken?” If he’s anything like his brother he’ll want to be right and win a challenge. 

He looks downward towards the ground and controllers, and puts on a smirking game face “YOUR ON BUT…” He walks over to the video game system container and pulls out the PSP2 and places it in front of you with Soul Calibur III laid out beside it. “…we’re playing video gameth I choothe.” He then decides as to extend his point by kicking all your old timey game controllers to the other side of the room. You’re stunned by his craftiness, but is there anything less to be expected from a Captor? No and your smirk tells you aren’t going to be disappointed. 

You play video games till you both crash asleep together on the floor. You sleep past the knock on your door and you aren’t woken from it or the creak as it opens to let Issiac and Phoenix look in the room. You both don’t even wake up to the special jingling tune of Cronus’ phone in the desk drawer that only rings when emergencies involving the Ampora House occurs that Nanny Maryam needs to contact Cronus about. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll have chapter 1 of act two up by Sunday


	3. REWRITE BECAUSE I DIDN'T LIKE WHAT WAS HAPPENING WITH THE CHARACTERS AND IF HUSSIE CAN DO IN CANON, THEN I CAN TOO FOR FANFICTION! >:(

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This story is having a rewrite and posts will be happening soon. For now my peepz wait because you will get the dancestor kids growing up with Mituna's incident and characters developing. My story turned really dark, really quickly and that isn't fun for a lot of readers, and it seemed rushed. This will be a favor to me and my self I will rewriting the next ACT, but do expect panic and sadness since we are talking about Mituna's accident and Cronus' reaction to it.

EXPECT UPDATE TO BE SOMETIME IN MIDDLE OF JANUARY. HOPE YOU ALL ENJOY!


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